by Kate Martin
Carma, after an appraising look around, stepped back from where Bri and Alec lay, placed her hands on her hips, and nodded her approval. “Yes, this should do. Picadilly, come to me.”
The woman appeared out of thin air. Just like that. If she could, in fact, be called a woman.
Oh, there was no doubt of her womanly shape, and the grace with which she moved, but everything else about her made Bri doubt this had ever been a human woman. Her movements were feline, that of a predator.
Their new addition gathered her balance after appearing so suddenly, and instantly turned to Carma. “So, my master has returned.” She brushed herself off, though she hadn’t gotten dirty. Bri wondered where she had come from—wearing pants and a tailored shirt she had left unbuttoned at the collar. “We had begun to think you might never show again.”
Carma just shrugged. “So I have heard. Did you enjoy your free time?”
“Immensely.” When Picadilly smiled, she gave the impression that her mouth should have been full of fangs. Bri attempted to become part of the tree at his back.
“Good for you,” Carma said. “However, that time is done and I once again require your services.”
Picadilly raised an eyebrow. “Already? How much trouble could you have gotten into?”
“Not me. Alec.”
Following Carma’s gesture, Picadilly turned. Behind her, Alec lay propped up against a sturdy tree, still bleeding and still gritting his teeth in pain. The expression that spread over Picadilly’s lips was not kind. “Well hello, Alec.”
“Hello, Picadilly,” he gritted out.
“You’re looking well.”
Alec’s response was not gentlemanly. Bri’s cheeks warmed. He had grown up among thieves and was no stranger to guttural language, but that went beyond anything he had ever heard.
“Catch up later,” Carma said. “I need him in working order, and soon.”
Pulling the leather glove from her left hand, Picadilly knelt beside Alec, the pants she wore well-suited to protect her from the cold ground. “What happened?”
“The Second File paid us a visit.” Carma moved as well, taking Alec’s arm and lifting it from his bloody abdomen.
“Ah, a blessed wound. Those are always fun.” Pica smiled.
Alec wrenched his arm back from Carma and adjusted his position. “Eat brimstone. I don’t need to know how much you’re going to enjoy this.”
Pica pulled the glove from her right hand. “Even more than last time,” she said, making it something of an intimate whisper.
“Just get to it,” Carma said.
Bri watched as the new woman pulled a single black strand of hair from her head. She ran the end through her lips, her tongue darting out at the last moment, a bead of red blood welling up at the tip. The end of the hair turned stiff and gleamed as though sharp. Bri thought Alec looked paler as she held it up for him to see.
“This will only hurt,” Picadilly said.
“You’re supposed to end that with ‘a little,’” Alec said.
“But that’s not true. And demons don’t lie.”
“You only wish you were a demon.”
She snarled. “You’ll be sorry for that.” She leaned over Alec, a dark glint in her eye.
Alec’s teeth-clenched scream sent chills down Bri’s spine and almost made him long for the escape of the myst. Almost. But he surprised himself. Instead of clapping his hands over his ears and curling into a ball, he stood and took one step closer to Alec. “Wh-what is she doing to him?”
Carma placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Healing him.”
“Healing?” Although he had been visited by doctors before, and the experience had often been unpleasant, it had never been like this. “How? It sounds like she’s killing him.”
“It is a small talent she has. I assure you, Alec will be good as new by tomorrow.”
He peered around Carma, straining to see what was happening. Alec had gone stiff as a board, his fingers dug into the ground. Picadilly leaned over him, threading that strand of hair in and out of his still bleeding wound.
A soft hand on his face drew him away just as Alec screamed again. “He is perfectly fine, Bri. I promise,” Carma said.
Bri let himself get lost in her sapphire and gold eyes, grateful when the sounds of Alec’s pain muffled in the distance. “What is she?”
With a gentle bit of guidance, she began leading him away. “Soulless.”
“Then how—?”
“You have seen Alec’s power. Why is it so hard to believe Picadilly’s?”
Bri nearly tripped over an errant root. “Could you explain it to me?”
Carma kept hold of his elbow, not letting him fall, and Bri realized that while she didn’t bring the same quiet Alec did, she could touch him without throwing him into the myst. “When one sells their soul, and surrenders it, a soulless may then have access to some of Hell’s power. They fill the emptiness in themselves with it, and for each of them, it takes a different form. Alec gains a burning strength, Pica has an ability to heal. Someday, you will have your own.”
“She doesn’t seem the type of woman who would want to heal.”
Carma laughed. “How observant you are. Her power is nothing ordinary, not even among the soulless. Pica was a demon once, with the power to heal and to feed off the pain of the wounds she cared for. She could wind her way through a battlefield and come out the other side stronger than any other.”
“But then how did she become one of your soulless?”
“She was tricked into a deal with a human man who then demanded she become human for him. Because of the nature of their deal, she could not refuse. She sold her soul to me in exchange for regaining some of what she had lost. What she can do now is a mere shadow of her former ability, but it is the closest she will ever get.”
Another scream tore through the forest. Bri tried to distract himself by gazing at the stars. He recognized the constellations—the twins and the chariot—so while he wasn’t sure exactly where they had gone, he knew they were still near the caravan’s last site. “And she will heal Alec?”
“Better than anyone else could. But you be careful of her. She channels that Hell power almost constantly. Alec tends to access his only when he deems it necessary. Touching her would not be wise.”
He had no plans to the contrary. Given Alec’s reactions to her, Bri didn’t think he wanted to be in the same room, let alone close enough to touch Picadilly. “They don’t seem to like each other, Alec and Picadilly.”
“Oh no. Not at all.”
He needed a moment. Bri broke away from Carma’s hands and went to a tree, pressing his cheek against the cool bark and closing his eyes, breathing in the cool air and the scent of leaves and pine needles. He felt safer than he had in a long time; unafraid to let the people with him get close, to touch him. He knew Alec and Carma wouldn’t hurt him, not like the caravan had. Picadilly he wasn’t so sure about, but he doubted Alec would leave him alone with her.
He stared at the vine along his right hand and arm. “Why do the seraph want me dead?”
“It is my intention to find out. I assume it has to do with your ability to see into the myst.”
“They can take it, if that’s what they want. I never wanted it. It only brings trouble.”
“Yet it is yours. And you will learn to control it.”
Control. He didn’t think it was possible, but he kept that to himself. “So what happens now?”
“We get you a teacher.”
— CHAPTER NINE —
Despite the surprisingly soft mattress of this backwoods inn, Alec couldn’t sleep.
It wasn’t the pain that kept him awake—although the pain was exquisite. Picadilly could heal just about anything, but she left behind an ache that lingered for hours. Alec was sure she did this to him intentionally; Carma had never complained after being attended to by their dear healer. His pain was such that he considered drawing more Hell power just to alleviate it,
but he resisted. He had since cast the addictive substance from his veins, and that had been hard enough. He wasn’t about to do it again.
The pain he could deal with, could even—perhaps—manage to sleep through.
Bri’s persistent nightmares were another matter.
Alec had hoped the boy would wake on his own. He had watched others in the throes of the darkest recesses of their own minds, and it never lasted long, no matter how long it felt to the dreamer. But Bri had not woken. Alec had called out to him from across the small room and there had been no change. A nightmare would crest and lull. Bri would thrash about for a few moments, then be still, with no movement save for the frantic rise and fall of his chest and the whimpers that escaped his lips. Then the cycle would repeat.
Alec had been forbidden to move during his healing process. The short trip from the woods to the inn had strained Pica’s stitching and caused more bleeding. She had found it necessary to restitch parts. It was the only reason he had not yet gotten up and woken the boy. A number of times he had been just about to give in, to climb out of his own bed and shake the boy awake, when Bri would suddenly settle on his own. Just when Alec thought the worst was over, it would begin again.
Like now.
Bri thrashed, kicking his feet and tangling them in the sheets. His arms swung about, punching whatever invisible attacker plagued him. Alec called his name, but Bri didn’t seem to hear. Throwing back the sheets of his own bed, Alec held his breath as he prepared for the short walk across the room.
Bri stilled.
Alec waited.
Tears streamed down Bri’s face, silent but for occasional hitching breaths, and Bri laid there, unmoving.
Somehow that was far worse than the violent reactions. All the fight had left him.
“Bri!” He shouted far louder than he had before. “Bri, wake up. It’s Alec. Wake up.”
The boy’s eyes opened, but he did not move, did not even breathe. Alec wasn’t sure he was truly awake.
“Bri? Do you hear me? Look here. Look at me.”
Slowly, Bri turned his head, but dropped it the last of the distance as if he couldn’t control it completely. Those silver-brown eyes didn’t blink.
“Are you awake? Do you know who I am?” Alec asked.
A nod, so small Alec almost missed it.
“Who am I?”
“Alec.”
Relief. “Do you know where you are?”
Bri’s gaze darted around for a moment. “The inn.”
“Good. Were you having a nightmare?”
With a deep breath that brought life back to a small body that had gone as still as death, Bri rolled onto his side, facing Alec. “Yes. But then I fell into the myst.”
Having eye contact seemed to calm them both. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Sometimes. But usually only when I’m sick.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Bri made an expression like the possibility had never occurred to him, and may never have.
“I only ask because I know it used to help me after I had nightmares. Talking always seemed to dispel them, make them less real,” Alec said.
Bri lowered his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about the nightmare.”
“Okay. What about the myst?” Alec asked, because he had noticed how Bri had differentiated the two parts. “Do you want to tell me what you saw?” He still couldn’t fathom what it was like to constantly be peering into the future of the entire world. The myst was something he had only learned about after selling his soul, when he’d started interacting with more demons and soulless than humans. It wasn’t meant for mortal eyes, that much he knew.
“It’s not what I saw. It’s what I see. What I always see.”
“And what’s that?”
“Death. People are going to die.”
That wasn’t entirely unusual. “People die every day, Bri. It’s just how things are.”
“No. I know that. That’s not what I mean. This is different. People are being killed. Things come out of the dark and they bleed them, torture them. And they kill each other. Hundreds, all killing one another.” He curled into a tight ball and buried his head in the pillow. “They do these awful things, and I have to see it, every time I close my eyes.”
“You see this all the time?”
Bri uncurled and forced his eyes open, though he seemed to see nothing in the physical world. “It hasn’t happened yet. I’ll see it until it happens.”
“Every night?”
“I don’t sleep much.”
Gods, no wonder the boy had such dark circles under his eyes, why he was so skittish.
“Do you want to sleep here, with me?” The words and the idea formed at the same time.
Silence answered him.
“When you touch me that quiet sets in, right? That should keep away the myst. And then maybe you can get some sleep.” And so can I.
Bri didn’t say anything for a long time, and Alec suddenly remembered the past the boy had come from. He wanted Bri to trust him, and thought maybe he was beginning to earn it. But they had known each other for only a handful of days. Actually, he applauded Bri’s caution.
“I’ll leave it up to you,” Alec said, trying to look like he had settled back into his own bed, and closed his eyes. “The offer stands.”
Silence. Then, the sheets rustled, and bare feet softly padded across the wood floor. When Alec opened his eyes, Bri stood at the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around himself.
Alec flipped his hand over atop the sheets, palm up.
Another long moment passed, and then fingers brushed his palm, then whole handed, Bri gripped him.
Alec did his best to scoot to the side, letting his other arm bump against the wall his bed sat against, making room.
Bri climbed in beside him, never losing his grip on Alec’s hand.
Curled on his side, a long sigh chased the tension from his small body, and Bri was asleep before his head even fully hit the pillow.
Alec watched him a long while, wanting to be sure Bri slept soundly.
When he woke, the sun was high in the sky.
“You will take him to Maladoon, and you will find Dorothea,” Carma said.
Alec leaned heavily against the doorframe, refusing to let Carma in the room. He’d gotten dressed, albeit a bit haphazardly, having only managed to button three of the buttons on his shirt, and had not yet tucked it into his pants. Picadilly’s healing had done the trick. He no longer bled, or was cursed with searing pain each time he breathed, but the stiffness and the lingering ache of a blessed wound remained. Her healing abilities did not extend to the repair of his bloodstained and torn clothing. He wasn’t looking forward to stepping outside like this. “I don’t know where Dorothea is currently. She left just before you returned.”
“I found her. In Maladoon. There are ruins there she finds very interesting.”
Alec rubbed his side where it still ached. “When did you have time to do that?”
“Last night.” Carma looked at him as though he’d asked a stupid question. Alec had forgotten just how inhuman a demon could be, even one who had lived among humans for two millennia. She traveled instantaneously and lived forever, she didn’t need sleep, and she made the most of her time.
“And yet you didn’t bring her back,” Alec said.
“She wasn’t finished with whatever she was doing. You know how witches get when they are in the middle of a spell, and I wasn’t willing to wait for her given the circumstances. It’s a good thing I didn’t.”
“Fine. But why aren’t you coming along?”
Carma flicked a bit of errant dust from the sleeve of her long black dress. “I have business to attend to, and Bri wouldn’t be able to accompany me into Hell. Besides, he needs a teacher now.”
“What are you doing in Hell?”
“I want to know when seraph started using sniffers to do their dirty work. It’s quite out of character.”
“The o
ne I spoke to claimed to know nothing about them.”
“Seraph can lie. But if that is true, then that means someone else is looking for me, or us, or Bri. Wouldn’t you like the answer to that?”
“Of course.” Alec said.
“Then stop arguing with me and get the boy to Dorothea. In the meantime, I will find us a new place to live. Somewhere prying eyes won’t think to look right away.”
“Why Dorothea? She’s a witch. She can’t use the myst.”
“No, but she knows all about pulling power, and she has seen more than her share of seraph.” She plucked two brown paper packages from the floor and thrust them into his arms. “These are for you and Bri. I’ve already let you both sleep half the day away, don’t dawdle.”
By the weight, Alec assumed the packages were fresh clothing. Thank the gods. “You’re taking Picadilly with you?”
“Of course. Mary and Brannick will stay behind here until I call for them. I already bought horses for you. Brannick is seeing to them now, so hurry up.”
She turned and left without another word. Alec resisted the urge to make some crude gesture at her back—just the thought made him feel better anyway—and went back inside the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Bri sat up in bed, awake. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes.” Alec crossed the room and deposited both packages on the duvet. “Have you ever been to Maladoon?”
“I think maybe once,” Bri said, watching Alec untie the strings of the package and unwrap the clothing. “But I was very young and I didn’t see any of it. I never left the caravan.”
“Well, you’ll see it now.” The first package held the smaller clothes, and he was pleased to see that Carma had selected something simple, comfortable, and entirely inconspicuous. Normally she liked everything flashy. “Here. Get dressed.”
The second package, which inevitably contained clothing meant for him, was not nearly as simple or subtle. If his own clothes weren’t bloodstained and likely to draw attention, he would have refused Carma’s new provisions.
He dressed quickly, feeling more ready for an evening about town than a week of travel, and pulled at the collar of his shirt until it seemed reasonably loose. Bri hopped about as he got dressed, whispering to himself about the quality of the fabrics and the smoothness of the buttons. He grinned in the mirror as he pulled on the page boy cap. Alec was glad to see Bri also had a pair of gloves. They wouldn’t be in keeping with the fashion for a boy Bri’s age, but they would protect him from unwanted contact as they moved about the market.
